Date: Fri, 17 Dec 2004 15:30:10 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher
Subject: Two Jubilees etc part 35
This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is
offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue,
go and surf elsewhere.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific
person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or
events it is entirely coincidental.
The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it
may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written
permission of the author.
My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a
number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical,
spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
Thank you to those who have commented on my stories. If you want to
comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim
to reply to all messages.
Two Jubilees and One Spitfire.
Resume:- Trevor after the break with Bob has gone out to New Zealand to
work.
Two Jubilees and One Spitfire. Part 35.
Trevor's first impressions of New Zealand were not good. He arrived in
Auckland on one of those rare hot rainy summer days. The moment he was out
of the airport his clothes seemed to cling to him like a moist second skin.
He had been told to get a taxi from the airport to the University, where he
would be allocated temporary accommodation. The taxi driver seemed to have
a down on Englishmen. The person at the University who informed him about
the accommodation was a rather abrupt and ill mannered woman. The
accommodation he had been allocated was a bed-sit. It was of reasonable
size, but looked out onto the blank wall of a taller building.
The weather over the next three days was little better than the day of his
arrival. Between showers he explored the University, where he learned the
professor in charge of his department was not returning from vacation for a
further five days.
Then on the fourth the day Trevor woke conscious of a bright light in his
room. It was the sunlight reflected off the blank wall of the building his
room faced. He went out to get some breakfast, and the moment he left the
building he was conscious of the warmth and freshness of the air.
Everybody seemed to be brightly clad, and walking jauntily after the wet
spell.
He spent the day exploring the centre of Auckland. Though it is not the
capital, it is the largest city in New Zealand with a population then
approaching one million. He returned to his room in a much more cheerful
frame of mind that evening.
A message had been left for him to go and see his professor the following
morning at 10.30, if possible. Those two words marked a great difference
from the imperial commands of Double O'Brien. Professor Michael Richardson
was a tall man in his late forties. He had craggy features, and greying
hair. He warmly welcomed Trevor, and immediately offered him coffee. They
sat in the professor's room and chatted. In that relaxed informal
atmosphere he learned a lot about the department, and he later realised
Michael Richardson had learned a lot about him.
When Trevor told Michael Richardson where he had been accommodated he was
obviously annoyed. "Oh, they put you there have they," he commented,
"We'll see about that." He got on to the internal phone, and in a polite
but forceful way told the accommodation officer that the room where Trevor
had been placed was just not good enough. He accepted no excuses and
insisted that somewhere much better was found. A quarter of an hour later
the accommodation officer rang through with somewhere else for Trevor.
Later that afternoon Trevor moved his things to a small one bed-roomed
flat. It was further from the University, but had a view over Waitemata
Harbour. It would do until he could find a place of his own to rent.
Michael Richardson invited Trevor to spend Saturday with him and his wife,
Sally. "I'd like to show you something that you will not have seen in your
part of Europe." Michael and his wife Sally, took Trevor to the island of
Rangitoto. The island which lies just 10Km from Auckland. It is a
volcanic island that last erupted some 250 years ago. The whole island
consists of lava, and almost no soil although trees have established
themselves. The walking is very rough. They climbed up to the top of the
island, 260m, with fine views across to Auckland, and over to the
Coromandel peninsula.
"I presume you got to know Professor Olga O'Brien well?" asked Michael at
one point.
"Have you ever met her?"
"Yes," laughed Michael. "Once at a conference. We crossed swords. She's
one formidable lady."
Trevor laughed. "You can say that again. I was warned by my tutor in
Cambridge that she liked to be stood up to. The first time we met, when
she interviewed me, we were into a heated discussion almost from the word
go."
"And that got you accepted by her?"
"Probably. She bosses everybody around, especially her husband. But
underneath it all she is a caring and understanding person. She'd be a
good person to fight your corner."
On their way down from the top of the island they explored a couple of the
lava caves that are a feature of the island. Trevor bashed his head on a
jugged piece of rock in the roof.
The three of them sat talking in the warm sunshine by the sea. Sally
Richardson asking many questions about life in Britain. She had never been
out of New Zealand, whereas her husband had studied in Britain for three
years.
Term began, and Trevor resumed a new pattern of daily life. He decided to
find some accommodation for himself, as he found the flat rather small. He
looked around and found a small two bed-roomed bungalow. It was a little
further from the University, but still convenient.
The packing cases he had sent from England had arrived and he unpacked them
in his bungalow. He felt nostalgic for England when he unwrapped his
photographs.
There was Isaac in his black sabbath suit, Fergus in his kilt laughing,
Eric in his army uniform taken on embarkation leave, before going off to
his death in Korea. Trevor sat on the edge of his bed looking at the
photograph. His eyes moistened. "I'd give a lot to have you with me,
Eric," he mused to himself. "I could do with you in bed with me at night."
Next he unwrapped the photograph of Paul, Liz and young Trevor. Paul was
wearing his dog collar. "I know we've never made love, Paul, but I love
you just as much as the others. You have a special corner in my life."
Then he came to the photograph of Kundi, with the broad grin and tucking
his shirt into his trousers after their first time together in the
overgrown field. "I must write to you, Kundi my love, and tell you what is
happening." Last of all he unwrapped the wooden Spitfire. It was getting
slightly battered and some of the paint chipped because Zach had often
played with it. Several times Trevor had thought of giving the plane to
Zach, but it was too precious. As he had done so often he wondered what
had happened to Harry. "Well, Harry, you're probably married with a family
of kids, and thinking what we did was just a phase in life, a part of
growing up." He put the Spitfire along with the photographs.
Trevor had been well trained by Isaac. He led a disciplined life. He
worked hard. To keep fit he walked and swam a lot. The work went well.
He enjoyed the two lectures he gave each week. He took a weekly tutorial
with four students. He soon got used to their New Zealand accents.
Towards the end of the first term he bought a second-hand car. It was
another Morris Traveller, and just a year younger than the one he had
bought when he first got his driving licence when he was at Nottingham. It
was considerably more battered than his car in England.
He found New Zealand a strange country. It took him a little while to
realise and get used to the sun being in the northern sky. Until he sorted
that one out he sometimes found himself going off in the wrong direction.
The flora seemed entirely different, most of the time. The Pakehas
[settlers] had brought over many plants from Britain, and these were to be
found in many places, but the bush was entirely made up with what were to
Trevor exotic plants. There were the Maori people, most of them abundantly
tattooed. There was a large South Sea Islander community in Auckland. A
couple of the students in his tutorial group were South Sea Islanders, from
Nuie and the Cook Islands. In some respects he found New Zealand years
behind Britain. It was almost like going back in time; and yet in other
ways New Zealand was ahead of Britain. It had been the first country in
the world to give votes to women.
About half way through his first term he discovered that homosexual acts
were illegal in New Zealand as they still were in Britain. He knew he
would have to be careful. He knew there must be men like himself around,
but where they met, and how they went about things remained a mystery to
him. He hoped that it would not be three or more years without knowing the
warmth of another man's body, the feel of someone's hands, and the cries of
pleasure from another voice. But until then he had to make do with the
traditional relief and satisfaction that he could give himself.
***
Towards the end of his first term, just before the Easter vacation, Michael
Richardson asked Trevor about his work, and what he going to do during the
vacation.
"I need some peace and quiet to get alone with my typewriter, and get
writing. The book is progressing well, and I have a couple of book reviews
to do. I've read one of the books, and I'm ready to write that review. I
need to read the other book."
"You've got it all planned then?"
"Oh yes. I always like to know what I need to be doing."
"So you'll be staying at home then?"
" 'Fraid so! Though there're a lot of distractions at home, and Auckland
itself is full of distractions."
"I've got a bach up north."
"A bach, what's that?"
"Physically its a small wooden building. It can sleep four. It's rather
primitive. Outside toilet. You have to go out to get your water. No
electricity. It's in a beautiful spot, on the coast, miles from anywhere,
except for half a dozen other bachs scattered around. If you'd like to use
that you're more than welcome."
"But why is it called a bach?"
"I think originally bach is short for bachelor, bachelor's quarters on the
old farms. Nowadays bachs are holiday accommodation. Primitive, yes. But
an opportunity to get away. My bach's not overlooked. If you're
interested let me know."
Trevor thought carefully about it. It would give him an opportunity to see
a bit more of the country, and if he was careful not to take too many
distractions, mostly in the form of other books to read, he would probably
get stuck into the work he had to do.
He accepted the offer.
***
Two days after the end of term Trevor drove north to Whangarei. It was a
long journey as the road twisted and turned, climbed and dropped. The
terrain of New Zealand is rarely easy for travel. He turned eastward at
Whangarei, and the road surface soon deteriorated. Increasingly long
stretches were unsealed. His car left a trail of fine dust in its wake.
He followed Michael and Sally's directions. He turned off the main track
onto a very rough and bumpy minor track and eventually arrived at his
destination. He got out of the car and stretched his aching bones.
The bach itself was a small four roomed single storied wooden construction.
There were two bedrooms a kitchen and a sitting room. There was also a
veranda that looked out to the north and west. He found where he could get
water and made himself a cup of coffee. He unloaded the car. This place
would be ideal for him. It was quiet. He would be able to get on with his
work.
Trevor went off to explore. He soon reached the sea. He stood, open
mouthed at the beauty of what lay in front of him. He was standing at the
top of a beach that went round to his left and right as an arc of white
sand. It almost enclosed a cove of water. Straight ahead of him, about a
half mile or perhaps more, ahead of him he could see the open water of the
Pacific. He could see the rollers breaking on the two rocky headlands that
formed the arms of the shore. The ocean was rough, but the water of the
lagoon was barely ruffled. The ocean was blue, the waters of the cove were
shades of light blue and turquoise. Above the beach the cove was ringed
with trees, the branches stretching out over the sand. The trees were
growing out of low cliffs.
A few yards along the beach there were a couple of boats drawn up on the
sand. There were footmarks in the sand and evidence of children in a few
old sand castles and sand pies, now collapsed in the drying sun and wind.
He explored further. The other bachs were widely dispersed. Some were
inhabited but most were obviously empty. They were situated away from the
beach and sheltered from the sea winds which were not always benign.
He returned to his bach and began to make himself at home. He slept well
that night, the only sound the gentle murmur of the wind.
Trevor was an organised man. He planned to rise with the sun, and work
during the day light hours when the light was good. He would prepare his
main meal at sunset. He had brought one book to read - Barchester Towers.
He would read that by the light of the aladdin lamp before going to bed.
Trevor's alarm woke him just as it was beginning to get light. He put on
his swimming trunks, some shorts and a shirt and grabbing a towel made his
way to the beach. As he arrived the sun came up, shining into the cove.
He walked along to right for a little way, and took off his shorts and
shirt. The beach was deserted. He looked around and decided to do what he
had always wanted to do, swim without the impediment of his trunks. He
pulled them off, and ran down into the sea. He plunged in. Michael and
Sally had said that it was cold swimming at that time of the year, but
Trevor had swum in the North Sea at the height of an English summer.
Though that New Zealand sea was not warm, it certainly was nowhere near as
cold as back home.
He had become a strong swimmer. He swam out, and back and ran up the beach
back to his clothes. He felt fully awake and refreshed.
He returned to the bach, made himself some breakfast, and got down to work.
He set up a table and chair on the veranda. He found a spot sheltered from
the wind and out of the direct sun. At the end of the day he was pleased
with what he had done. Before getting his meal we went for a wander. He
met and spoke to a couple of people who were there on holiday. They were
surprised to find an Englishman in such a remote spot.
The next three days followed exactly the same pattern. He had, however,
got to know the other people staying there. Sometimes they wandered passed
the bach and had a brief word with Trevor, but when they learnt that he was
working they just exchanged a word of greeting and left him to get on with
it.
On the fourth morning Trevor went down for his early morning swim. He was
delighting in the sensuous pleasure of swimming in the nude. He swam out
and when he turned back towards the shore he saw a man walking along the
shore. He was carrying a towel under his arm. The man walked about a
fifty yards past Trevor's clothes and towel, and stripped off his shirt and
shorts. He kept his bathing trunks on and plunged into the sea.
Trevor was faced with a choice. He could either remain in the sea until
the man finished his dip; and that might be a long time. Or he could do as
on previous mornings and wade out of the sea revealing all. He decided on
the latter course. He ran up the beach and quickly wrapped the towel
around himself. He hoped that the other man had not seen, or if he had
seen he was not offended.
The next morning exactly the same thing happened except that the man waved
to Trevor when he arrived on the beach, and he only walked about twenty
yards further along. When Trevor left he gave the man a wave. He was
quite a way out, but returned the wave.
The following morning the man stopped by Trevor's things, and took off his
shorts, and then his trunks before running down and plunging into the sea.
He swam out to Trevor.
"I decided to follow your example, and swim in my birthday suit. I've
never done it before."
"Nor had I until I came here. It's good, isn't it?" said Trevor.
"Great! I'm Ross, by the way."
"I'm Trevor."
While treading water they shook hands, and after going under emerged
laughing. They both started swimming back to where their clothes lay in
two solitary lots on the expanse of beach. The water ran off them as they
waded up the beach. They grabbed towels, but both sought to catch a sight
of the other's landing gear. Even though those New Zealand waters were not
as cold as the North Sea the effect on Trevor had been the same. Kundi
would have required his micrometer to measure both men's penises. They
were barely visible behind the thick pubic hair. Trevor thought that Ross
might be circumcised. That was a matter of interest.
They walked back along the beach together.
"You sound as though you're from England?" asked Ross.
"Yea. London to be precise."
"Here on holiday?"
"No working. Auckland University."
"How's it going?"
"Fine."
Over the following few mornings there were further short conversations. The
first one on the beach started waiting for the other to arrive and they
walked along to the usual spot together. As they undressed they took note
of each other, and each knew he was being assessed.
Ross was at least two inches over six feet in height. He had an unruly mop
of wavy blond hair, which he wore rather long. He was thin, with craggy
features and a rather long nose. He had brilliant blue eyes. He had a
little hair on his chest, and more on his legs, but it was not very
noticeable because it was so fair.
The usual routine was to swim out a hundred yards or so as fast as they
could. They would tread water and get their breath back, before swimming
more slowly back to the shore. Their morning swims were not leisurely
affairs, they were mainly undertaken for cleanliness and refreshment .
"So what are you doing in this part of the country?" asked Ross.
"Getting some work done."
"You a geologist, or botanist or something?"
"No I'm an economic historian if anything. I'm up here trying to write a
book, away from the distractions of home and Auckland."
"I'm up here trying to write a book."
"What sort?" asked Trevor.
"A novel. I've written and had published a couple of novels, but this one
is proving a swine. I know where I want to get to, but I keep running into
a glass wall, and can't get to where I want to be. Came up here hoping a
different scene would help."
"Has it?"
"Ask me in a couple of days time. What about eating together this
evening."
"That does sound a good idea."
"Come round about 6.30 then." Ross went on to describe the bach he was
staying in. They had a very pleasant evening together. Ross had made a
simple but pleasant meal. They sat talking on the deck outside the bach,
and started arguing. Trevor mentioned that he was reading Barchester
Towers by Anthony Trollope. Ross said that Trollope was a second rate
author and in no way to be compared with Dickens. It was quite late when
they stopped. They had got through a couple of bottles of excellent New
Zealand wine that evening.
"I've really enjoyed that. We must do it again," said Ross.
"Tomorrow?"
"Why not?"
"My place then."
"Fine."
The next morning they met up for their swim as usual. They swam rather
further out than usual. As they bobbed around in the water they watched
the sun come up over one of the headlands filling the cove with bright
sunlight.
"Work calls," said Trevor and began to swim back towards the shore. When
they were about half way back Ross grabbed Trevor's ankle and pulled. This
completely put Trevor off his stroke. He went under and emerged
spluttering and laughing. He took a deep breath and plunged down, and
managed to get a brief hold on Ross' arm.
There was more laughter. Each tried to grab the other. They started
playing an informal game of water tag. It was Ross who managed to get a
hand to cup Trevor's cock and balls briefly. With a broad grin, and a
shout of "You wait!" Trevor plunged after Ross. But he was not quickly
enough. Ross swam a fast crawl to the beach and managed to keep out of
Trevor's reach until he reached the clothes. He grabbed his towel and
wrapped it round his waist.
"Wait till tomorrow," panted Trevor laughing. "Your turn to eat with me
tonight."
"6.30?" asked Ross.
Several times during the day Trevor thought over the incident in the sea.
He was convinced it was not an accident. He realised that their
conversation the night before would have informed Ross that Trevor did not
have a woman in tow, and had never really had one. Ross was the same.
They spent another pleasant evening together. They compared the problems
and delights of writing fiction and non fiction, and managed to start
arguing as to which was easier. They found out more about each other.
Ross was intrigued with the story of Trevor's early life in wartime London,
evacuation and adoption by Isaac. Trevor did not tell him the more
intimate details. They also argued for nearly an hour about the merits of
Schubert. Trevor liked his work, Ross thought it largely derivative.
The next morning they swam out as usual in the bay. Their return took much
longer, as there was a lot of horseplay.
"Have you walked out onto the headland and watched the sunset over the
land.
It is every bit as beautiful as the dawn," said Ross.
When Trevor said he had not explored much further than the immediate
surrounding Ross suggested that they go out on to one of the headlands
before they had their meal. It was an hour before sunset when the two of
them started walking along the beach, Ross knew the way and they scrambled
up the low cliffs, and walked out on to the rocky headland. They were
immediately conscious of the Pacific breakers crashing against the rocks on
one side. On the other side were the lightly rippling waters of the cove.
It was a beautiful spot. They turned to watch the sun slowly sinking in
the west.
Trevor sat down on a small rock. Ross stood alongside. When the sun had
almost reached the horizon Ross moved and came and stood behind Trevor. As
the sun began to disappear Ross put his hands on Trevor's shoulders, and
lightly massaged him. Trevor sighed, and lent back against Ross. The sun
disappeared. Ross bent down and kissed Trevor's forehead.
"That's nice," responded Trevor, and reached round and began to stroke
Ross' calf and knee. Trevor moved slightly to one side making room for
Ross to come and sit alongside. Ross placed an arm round Trevor's waist.
Trevor moved closer and put his arm round Ross' shoulders.
They turned to look at each other. They smiled, and slowly moved their
faces closer and exchanged a soft kiss.
"You don't mind? Not offended?" said Ross.
"Not at all." Trevor lent forward again and gave Ross a firmer and more
definite kiss.
"This what you like?" said Ross.
"Yea."
"Thought so. All the way?" Ross placed a hand high on Trevor's thigh.
"Yea, all the way. I've just had myself for the last four months."
"We'll have to do something about that, won't we?" Ross hand moved up and
felt Trevor's hardness.
"Yes, and soon." Trevor's hand went straight to Ross' crotch and felt a
matching hardness.
Ross unzipped Trevor's flies, and reaching in held and then extracted
Trevor's cock. "I've wanted to do that for several days."
Trevor laughed. "It's always difficult knowing whether a guy is interested
or not. There seems to be some sixth sense saying 'yes', but you never
know whether you dare trust that sense." As he spoke he undid the buttons
on Ross' flies, and extracted his cock.
"It could be disastrous with the wrong Man."
They sat for several minutes, their hands busy, and exchanging increasingly
ardent kisses.
Ross moved and knelt in front of Trevor. Immediately he took Trevor's cock
into his mouth. Trevor sighed and gently fondled Ross' ears.
Ross did not have to suck long. "I'm getting close," murmured Trevor.
"You sure?"
Without stopping his sucking Ross nodded. Soon his mouth was filled with a
copious load of English spunk.
"Now my turn," said Trevor. Ross got up and sat on the rock. He had taken
the opportunity to drop his shorts, so that Trevor had full and easy
access. He kissed and licked around Ross' cock and balls. Then he took
the cock firmly into his mouth and began to suck. He, too, did not have to
suck long. Soon there was a mouthful of fresh New Zealand spunk filling
Trevor's mouth.
"I hope we can do that again," said Ross.
"Yes, many times and more."
"Good."
They sat alongside with their arms round each other. The colours of the
glorious sunset began to fade.
"We have had the hors d'oeuvre," said Trevor, "We'd better be going back
for the main course."
"We'd better be careful getting down on to the beach."
They stood up, but when they turned they saw that the moon was just
beginning to rise above the horizon. There was not a cloud in the eastern
sky, and it was a full moon. In place of the golden light from the setting
sun there was now the silvery light of the rising moon. The landscape was
transformed into a different beauty. They stood with arms round each
other, watching.
They took a long while getting back to Ross' bach. They took the clamber
down to the beach slowly and with care. But they kept touching each other,
and stopping to hug and to kiss. They walked, sometimes hand in hand, at
other times with hands caressing buttocks.
Ross finished preparing the meal. They ate by the light of the paraffin
lamp.
"Will you stay the night?"
"Yes. A very big definite yes."
Ross stood up and came round to Trevor. He gave him a kiss. "You know,
Trev? I'm beginning to like you a lot."
"Good."
"I'm in danger of sounding like some slushy romantic novelist."
"I don't mind. I'm falling for you."
"Let's clear these things up. The washing up can wait till the morning,"
said Ross. "I want to get you into my bed."
"Strangely enough, I want to be in your bed."
They laughed.
Five minutes later they were naked, and getting into bed. They pressed
close. Lips and tongues met together. Chests met together. Crotches
pressed together, and hands stroked.
Ross' fingers explored Trevor's arse crack, and a finger ventured in. "I
want to put my prick in there, Trev."
"It will be very welcome. But what about mine in yours?"
"Very welcome too."
For the next hour they enjoyed their intimate closeness.
"I'm wanting to get my circumcised prick into that lovely butt of yours."
"Good. Though it won't be the first."
"Are a lot of Englishmen circumcised?"
"Some. Isaac..."
"Your guardian?
"Yes."
Ross moved in surprise, so Trevor told him the story of his early days in
Limehouse and how he came to meet Isaac. But when Trevor told him about
Fred, and the violent abuse he had suffered, Ross was horrified.
"Trev! Poor you. How terrible." He held Trevor in his arms as if the
pain was fresh and recent.
"Are you sure you want me to, after that?" asked Ross.
Trevor laughed. "Bill was always very gentle with me, and of course, Isaac
was. I want you."
Ross had surreptitiously prepared for this eventuality. And though the
room was in darkness, he reached out for some lubricant. Trevor lay on his
front with a pillow under his hips, his buttocks raised invitingly. By
touch Ross prepared Trevor, and then himself. There were some murmured
directions and the circumcised head to Ross' prick was soon pressing into
Trevor. Slowly, to the great satisfaction of them both, Ross' prick
penetrated deep into Trevor.
"All right, Trev?"
"You fit perfectly."
"Made for each other." Ross kissed the back of Trevor's neck, and nibbled
his ears. Slowly he thrust in and out. His prick had found the special
place for Trevor.
"Your pillow is going to receive a load if you carry on like this,"
remarked Trevor.
"I think there's a laundrette in Tutukapa," panted Ross as he increased his
pace. Ross climaxed first, thrusting deeper than ever into Trevor, and
held still. His cock spasmed as his love juice shot into Trevor. That set
it off for Trevor, though his spunk poured out on to the pillow beneath
him.
When they had regained their breath Ross moved to pull his softened prick
out of Trevor.
"No hold it there," said Trevor. "With a little care we can move onto our
sides."
This was accomplished and after a few words of endearment, they both fell
asleep. Ross' cock was in place, and his arms were wrapped round Trevor.
About an hour before dawn they began to stir. They had uncoupled sometime
during the night. Trevor's cock, swollen with its morning hardness, was
pressing into Ross' buttocks. Trevor held it there, enjoying it.
Ross woke. "Behold he stands at the door and knocks," muttered Ross.
"Do you want it?" whispered Trevor.
"Yes, very much." Ross wriggled his bum to feel more of Trevor against
him.
"I'm afraid I'll have to empty my bladder, before I can do the necessary,"
said Trevor.
"Same here," said Ross.
That was soon done. Ross lit the candle and then it was his turn to be
face down with the pillow raising his hips. They repeated the actions of
the evening before with their roles reversed. This time it was Trevor's
love juice that gushed into Ross, and Ross' that stained the pillowslip.
"It's about time for our swim," said Trevor.
"You're a hard taskmaster."
"We've both got work to do. You've got to get over that block in your
book,
and I've got to get down to writing my last chapter." He got out of bed.
He pulled the bedclothes off Ross. "Come on, swim time." He pulled Ross'
arm.
Grudgingly, and with some moans Ross began to move. They both slipped on
shorts and a shirt, and grabbed their towels and made their way down to
the beach.
The sun was just coming up over the headland when they stripped off, and
with shouts of naked freedom ran into the sea.
"My place tonight for a meal." said Trevor when they parted after their
swim.
Trevor did a good day's work, in spite of the fact that he kept remembering
the night before, and looking forward to Ross coming round for a meal, and
what he was sure would follow.
Trevor was preparing the meal when he heard Ross whistling as he approached
the bach. "Come on in," he called. "I'm busy, these onions I'm frying are
nearly done."
Ross burst into the kitchen, "How's the sexy Trevor this evening?" Before
Trevor could reply Ross came and stood pressing himself against Trevor's
back, and kissed his neck.
Trevor pushed his buttocks back, and could feel the hardening prick in
Ross' trousers. "Still in working order then after last night!"
"I should say. And eager for more of the same."
Ross slid his hands round to feel Trevor's cock. "Not the only one then?"
Trevor turned off the frying onions and turned to face Ross. They kissed
and held each other close.
"Seems a long while since this morning," said Trevor.
"I know."
"What sort of day have you had?" asked Trevor.
"Except for spending too much time thinking of you, a great day. I've
written more today than I've written for ages."
"Through that block you were talking about?"
"Yes. I've been writing all day. Just short breaks for the loo, and for
the odd biscuit. A great day. I'm really quite excited about it. What
sort of day did you have?"
"I had a good one too. I think another couple of days and I'll have done
all that I set out to do this holiday. Seems we're good for each other in
more ways that one." Trevor gave Ross one of his cheeky grins.
Ross laughed and then quickly added "But I know I'm ravenous. Could eat a
mangey monkey."
"Well I've got something better than a mangey monkey. Some nice steak, and
some fried onions."
"Smells good, said Ross.
"Well, if you'd let me go, we're just about ready to eat."
Ross gave Trevor another kiss, and released him from his hug.
That meal marked another step in the development of their relationship.
They started talking about life in New Zealand. Ross made a couple of
disparaging remarks about the Maoris. Trevor started sticking up for them.
Soon they were arguing quite heatedly about the Treaty of Waitangi. After
about half an hour Trevor laughed. "I feel at home. Just like being with
Isaac. Haven't had good discussions like we had these last evenings for
ages."
"Did you argue with Isaac?"
"I should say. You don't live with a Jew without learning to argue. He'd
argue on one side one time and the complete opposite the next."
"We had a teacher like that at school."
That evening after they had finished the meal they washed up, but they kept
stopping to have a hug and a kiss.
***
Two days later, when Ross arrived in the early evening, Trevor announced
that he had completed the work he had come to do. Ross said that he had
arrived at a point when he could break off.
"Four days, until term starts," announced Trevor.
"What shall we do?"
"Spend the whole time in bed?" suggested Trevor with one of his grins.
"That's not a bad idea. But seriously, let me show you something more of
New Zealand."
"But where can we stay so we can sleep together? Hotels and so on would
not welcome a couple of men together, and would be suspicious even if we
booked into a room with two beds."
Ross thought for a moment. "I know. We'll go into Whangarei and I'll buy
a tent. I've got a double sleeping bag with me. I've used it on sort of
similar occasions." Ross spoke the last sentence hesitantly, and blushed.
"You must tell me about that sometime."
"You didn't think I was a virgin the other night, did you?" exclaimed
Ross.
"Good Lord, no!" He paused for a moment. "What about eating. Have you a
primus or something?"
"No."
"Well let's buy one. I expect there's shop in Whangarei that sells what
we'd require."
They spent the next morning packing up. Ross went into Tutukapa and found
a laundrette, while Trevor did the sweeping and cleaning up of the two
bachs.
They left for Whangarei just after midday. They were a couple of hours
buying a tent, and the other things they required. They left Trevor's car
at a garage, where they bought some petrol, and the owner said he would
keep an eye on the car for him.
They drove north towards the Bay of Islands. They stopped a few miles
short of Pahia. They found a beautiful spot to camp, hidden from the road;
not that that really mattered as there was not a great deal of traffic even
during the day. They pitched their tent. They made a stew on the primus
stove. The sun was going down as they ate.
"Now for what I really want," said Ross.
"And what might that be?" asked Trevor with a mocking tone of voice.
"Both of us naked in that sleeping bag."
"Come on then." Trevor stood up and began stripping off his clothes. Ross
was not long behind. They crawled into the small tent and wriggled into
the sleeping bag.
"Now, Ross, you must tell me more about yourself. I've told you about me,
and we've argued about politics, literature, and even a little about
religion, but you said very little about yourself. So spill the beans,
mate."
"I've told you one or two things. My folks are farmers in the Marlborough
area of the South Island. They are beginning to get into the wine
business. There's Mum and Dad and four brothers. I'm the youngest, the
babe, and often treated as such.
My next older brother is six years older than me, and my oldest brother
twenty years older. So I was always made to feel the kid brother. My
brothers all had various girl friends, and then started going steady, got
engaged and then married. I'm an uncle to goodness knows how many nephews
and nieces, and the number seems to go up for each Christmas. The same
thing happened at school. It was almost as though one week we were a gang
of lads mucking around together, and then suddenly it was all girls. They
were like dogs sniffing around bitches on heat."
"But not you?" said Trevor.
"But not me. I was just not interested. I suppose that was when I turned
inward. I realised I had to make the best of my own company. I started
reading, and incidentally working more at school."
"How old were you when this happened?"
"About fourteen. I know I'd discovered that my genital equipment was fully
functional, even if it was always a solitary activity. I just was not
interested in girls. Some of the lads would drool over the odd piece of
pornographic literature that came our way. I just was not interested. I
then realised that I wanted to see pictures of men, not women; naked men,
not naked women. I must've been about sixteen or seventeen when I was
talking to my Mum. I always found it easy to talk to her. I think being
the youngest I have a special place in her heart, and that's not to say
that there isn't more than an abundance of love for my brothers. Now when
it comes to the grandkids! But one day we were talking. 'You're not like
your brothers are you?" she commented. 'What way, Mum?' 'Well, at your
age they were into girls. A constant succession of different girl friends,
all of them. And they all said each girl was special and this was it.'
She laughed at the memory. 'But you're different. I don't think you have
brought a girl into this house since you stopped having girls to your
birthday parties when you were seven.' I think I just grinned, Trev.
"That's all right, Ross,' she said, 'If that's how you want it to be. I'd
far rather you never married, than you were married and unhappy. That
would be bad for you and the lass concerned.' I was beginning to feel a
little embarassed about this turn in our conversation. 'Ross, if I might
speak bluntly,' she said , looking at me firmly. 'I don't think you're the
marrying sort.' I went a bright crimson with embarassment. She came and
put her motherly arms round me. 'I want you to know Ross, that it is all
right by me and your Dad. We want your happiness, and you to be your real
self, and not what society and anyone else wants you to be. I don't want
to know what you get up to. But if there is ever someone special in your
life,
I hope you'll bring them home here, whether they are another a man, or a
woman.' She gave me a hug and a kiss.
"That was remarkably enlightened," said Trevor. "Rural societies are often
the most conservative when it comes to personal affairs like that."
"I know. But my Mum was not just a country girl. She'd been brought up in
Wellington, and had gone to Sydney to University. She read English
Literature. I think it's from her I get my love of language, and even my
love of writing. She has written a few poems. That's something I can't
do."
"Was there anyone in your life at that time?"
"No. I'd never even had another guy's hand on my cock, let alone mine on
his. I'd only the vaguest idea that men might do something with me.
Remember it was a rural society, and men like us had to be doubly if not
triply careful in those days. Things are changing."
"Slowly. All too slowly. So when did you get out and begin to experience
the freedom to be yourself?"
"Well, I did well at school. I got a Uni. place at Dunedin. Read English,
like my Mum."
"That's in the South Island, isn't it?"
"Yea. South of the South Island. I'll take you there one day." Ross bent
over Trevor and gave him a long loving kiss.
"To continue. At Uni. we had to share rooms. I began by sharing a room
with a hundred per cent hetero extrovert, games playing, hard drinking guy.
He was noisy, boisterous, and untidy. The room always seemed to be invaded
or full of his friends, many of them shrieking women. At least, they seemed
hysterical women to me. The only good thing about this guy was that he had
a body you'd die for. However all was not lost. One of his closest
friends was in a room nearby. Similar type. He was sharing a room with a
very quiet studious type. Thick glasses, and totally unsportsmanlike. To
make a long story short, we did a swop. I moved in with the studious guy,
Stevie; and his room mate took my place. It worked well."
"And Stevie?"
"Yes, Stevie was like us. In spite of his appearance, and apparent
wimpishness, he was a randy blighter. He'd had a lot of sexual experience
with lads of his own age, and with older men, while he was at school. He
asked me a few questions and started putting two and two together."
"And the rest is history?"
"More or less. I think it was the third night, I was in bed, and he was
getting undressed. I used to try and catch a glimpse of him. 'You like to
see my endowments don't you?' he said. He turned so I could have a full
close view. 'I think you are wanting experience, and are just lacking it.'
With that he got into my bed. 'You've never known what it is to have fun
with a nice man have you, Ross?' I shook my head. 'Now's your chance.'
He pushed a hand down and into my pyjama trousers, and grabbed my already
hardening prick. 'I thought you'd like that,' he said. 'It's standing up
to welcome me.' He pressed himself against me, and I could feel his hard
prick against my thigh. 'Shall we strip off?" he asked. 'Yea, let's.' It
was wonderful. Steve was nothing much to look at. But to feel him just
against me, and when he started feeling me all over with his hand, it was
wonderful, Trevor. 'This is your first time, isn't it?' he said. I
nodded.
'Then we'll take it all very slowly, step by step of the way. We've got
the best part of three academic years, if we wish.'
"He took it all very slowly. We cuddled, and kissed a bit, and then tossed
each other off that first night. That was wonderful. I thought I was in a
sort of seventh heaven. A few days later he sucked me off. That was a
totally new mind blowing experience. By the end of that first term we were
doing almost everything, except for some of the kinky things that guys get
up to."
"Did you take him home to meet your folk?"
"No. Though Mum knew there was someone."
"Did you tell her?"
"Only after she had guessed."
"What happened?"
"One day she said to me, 'You're different, Ross.' 'In what way?' I asked.
'You're happier, more contented. You've found someone haven't you?' I
think I went a bright red, and just nodded."
"At least I never had to tell Isaac," said Trevor with a laugh. "So how
long did it last with Stevie?"
"The whole of our time at Uni. I came to realise something very important
with Stevie. He wasn't much to look at. No admiring male or female
would've cast him an admiring glance. His body was nothing much; but the
sex with him! He was terrific. He knew how to do it. He played me the
way Yehudi Menuhin plays the violin."
"I've heard a saying in the army, 'You don't look at the mantlepiece when
you poke the fire.'"
They both laughed.
"So what happened after Uni?" asked Trevor.
"Stevie went off to England. He did a research degree somewhere or other.
I went over to Aus. That was interesting. Though we have a great deal in
common, New Zealand and Australia are two very different countries. Our
histories are very different. Australia is the older settlement, but was a
number of convict settlements.
As we like to tell them, the refuse of the old country was shipped down
under. They had a very primitive people to deal with in the Abos, and
dealt with them extremely harshly. New Zealand was settled by deliberate
colonialists. From the word go they were living alongside a well organised
society, the Maoris. There were bad things done by the Pakeha - the
whites. But the Treaty of Waitangi, 6th February 1840, was a noble effort
to see justice to both sides. The trouble was not the intention, which was
good, but the ignorance, on both sides. Neither side realised that the
other side had totally different concepts of property rights and so on. So
there continued to be conflict. But the Church was a power for good. The
first Anglican Bishop, Selwyn, insisted on equality between the Maoris and
Pakeha. Our Prayer Book is in both English and Maori."
"I didn't know that!" commented Trevor. "Did you live a life of poverty,
chastity, and obedience in Australia?"
Ross laughed. "Poverty, yes; chastity, no; obedience in Australia, you
must be joking. Even then Australia, especially in cities like Sydney, was
a slightly more open and tolerant society than over here. I think
homosexuality had been a part of the early convict days. More men than
women. Though there was a tendency to try and forget the past, some of its
features remained. But now, there are some beginning to take a pride in
their convict beginnings."
"What did you do?"
"I did all sorts of work. From labouring, to kitchen work and all stations
in between."
"Did you go and work in the out back?"
"No. I wanted to experience more of city life. Dunedin was a small,
rather conservative town. But Sydney seemed huge. It was a vibrant,
wonderful city. I loved it. I intend going back. It was there I started
writing. Though it was some time before I got my first book accepted and
published."
"You said you did not lead a chaste life," said Trevor.
"I met another Stephen. Though he was never called Stevie, he was always
Stephen, and didn't like even Steve. He was a male nurse in a hospital. I
met him when I had to go in to have my appendix removed. He nursed me. I
soon twigged that he was like us. Just by the way he held my prick when he
was washing me. He got a hard on. Second time it happened, I said
something about the swelling in his trousers. We just grinned at each
other. 'Perhaps we can meet up when you're out of here,' he said. So we
did. The rest is history. We lived together for seven years. I loved him
very much.
This sleeping bag was his."
"What happened?"
"He was killed in a road accident. The terrible thing was that though I
had lived with him for seven years, I was just thrust to one side. His
parents organised the funeral. I was barely consulted. I think my
presence was an embarrassment when it came to most in his family, and
certainly with the neighbours in their respectable church- going suburbs.
No one thought to really comfort me. No vicar or minister came round to
talk to me. I was heart broken."
"What did you do?"
"I went back to Mum. I went home. My first book had been published, and
was a moderate success. I was about to start on the second."
"I suppose your parents never met Stephen?
"They had, actually. They had come over to Sydney for a holiday, and
actually stayed with us. It went well. They liked Stephen, he was a
character, great fun, made them laugh. They could see he was good for me,
and that we really loved each other."
"Poor you. You've had your hard times too." Trevor took Ross into his
arms and held him.
"I wrote my second book at home on the South Island. I think my grief for
Stephen comes out in it. It is a dark book. The critics did not like it,
when they compared it with my first. But it helped get things out of my
system. You know, Trev, there're still times when I weep for Stephen. The
last time was the day before coming up north. I felt so lonely, I missed
him so much. But I've hardly thought of him over the last few days."
Trevor kissed Ross. "Thanks for telling me all that. Not least that last
part. I understand a little. I grieved enough over Eric, and our
relationship was just starting. I grieved enough when Kundi went back to
Nigeria, but that was not the parting of death. To lose a love of seven
years, someone you've lived with!"
They lay together in silence for several minutes.
"How do you want to make love with me tonight?" whispered Trevor in Ross'
ear.
"I'd like you to suck me off. You're an expert."
"Well taught by Isaac. But I'd suffocate if I burrowed down in this
sleeping bag. I like some fresh air."
"Okay then. On the top."
They crawled out of the sleeping bag, and Trevor got his face down to Ross'
crotch. He used his fingers and his tongue, fingers penetrating and
stroking Ross' perinaeum. His tongue at first licking the length of Ross'
cock. Then with his tongue he played with the head, and tasted the drops
that kept oozing out of the head. "You have the most wonderul taste, Ross.
I bet your old man does not produce a tastier wine."
He then began to suck. Slowly, softly at first. then as Ross' got more
and more aroused, Trevor gripped with his lips tighter, and flicked the
head with his tongue. Ross' head rolled from side to side. He groaned and
then emptied his load of love juice into Trevor's sucking and willing
mouth. Trevor savoured the last oozings
They crawled back into the sleeping bag.
"I've got a confession to make, Trev."
"What?" replied a sleepy Trevor.
"I think I'm falling in love."
"Good, I think I am too."
***
The next day they caught the ferry across to the small town of Russell.
Trevor said he should be able to claim certain privileges as the place was
named after him.
They discoverd the Church, the oldest in New Zealand, 1835, with its
walls scarred with musket ball holes, inflicted during the Maori wars. But
Ross pointed out a notice that equal burial rights had been observed for
Pakeha and Maori from the earliest days, and this had been continued until
the graveyard had been closed because it was full. In the afternoon they
visited the site of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi.
They had their evening meal in Pahia, and then made their way to their
secluded camp site, where they made lengthy, langourous love to each other.
The next day they crossed the island to the west coast, and spent the
afternoon exploring the huge sand dunes on the north side of the Hotianga
Harbour.
"There is so much to see," commented Trevor as they made their meal that
evening.
"We'll come back some day, and do this area properly." promised Ross.
"Tomorrow I'm going to introduce you to Tane Mahuta."
"And who's Tane Mahuta, when he is at home?"
"You'll just have to wait and see. When the introduction has been made,
and the necessary rituals performed, we will get back to Auckland."
Trevor continued to question, but Ross gave no further information.
Early the next morning they struck camp, loaded the car and drove south on
an unsealed track into the Waipoua Forest.
"So where does this Tane Mahuta live?" asked Trevor.
"Nearly there."
A few miles further on there was a sign post to Tane Mahuta. They parked
the car, and began to walk on a rough path deep into the forest. There were
no other cars, and no evidence of any other humans around. Trevor was
amazed at the variety of new trees and bushes on every side; and became
more mystified as to who or what was Tane Mahuta. They came to a small
clearing and there at one end stood an immense kauri tree. Its grey trunk
was cylindrical, and rose, forty, fifty, perhaps more feet, without
tapering before all the branches spread out. The truck was criss-crossed
with lines as though slashed by some confectioner or baker's knife. It was
an awesome sight. The tree stood on a low mound made of fallen branches.
Surrounding this was an elementary fence. The weight of visitors to the
tree standing on the mound would compress the fallen material, and this
would be detrimental to its health.
"Tane Mahuta, the God of the Forest," whispered Ross as he bowed to the
tree.
They stood in silence, almost in reverence.
"He is about 2000 years old. There used to be many of them. But the wood
is very hard and does not rot easily. Your oak is a soft wood in
comparison. The Pakeha came and cut down almost all the more accessible
trees. But this wonderful one survived." Ross came and stood with his arm
round Trevor's shoulder.
"Seeing this is like the numinous experience I had in King's College
Chapel,
when I went up to Cambridge for my entrance exam. It is wonderful. It
makes me feel so small. And knowing its age, our lives are so transitory.
Thanks Ross, for bring me here. I think it is the high point of our trip."
Ross moved so he was directly behind Trevor with both hands on his
shoulders. "Tane Mahuta is the God of the Forest," he whispered in
Trevor's ear. "And the God of the Forest demands a sacrifice from
Englishmen coming to live in his domain."
Trevor laughed, and tried to turn, but Ross held him firmly. "Not a human
sacrifice, I hope," said Trevor continuing to laugh.
"No Tane Mahuta is a good and benevolent Maori God. He does not want the
sacrifice of a human life. He wants the sacrificial offering of your life
juice, to be poured out onto the ground in front of him."
"You want me to toss myself off here and now!"
"No the offering must not be the work of human hands," said Ross softly in
Trevor's ear.
"How then? Just by thinking about it? In that case he will have to wait a
long time."
"A true follower of Tane Mahuta, the God of the Forest, like me, can help a
visiting Englishman make his offering." Ross' hands were rubbing Trevor's
chest and stomach.
"You want to toss me off here?" said a slightly apprehensive Trevor.
"Not the work of human hands, even mine. I'm going to fuck you, Trev my
love, fuck you until your love juice spills on the ground as an offering to
Tane Mahuta. If we do that he will watch over you all your days in his
land."
"But what if someone comes along."
"Then hopefully we'd hear them. They could either join in or we could
disappear into the bush." Ross undid the belt that held up Trevor's
shorts, and began to push them down.
"Tane Mahuta demands total devotion. We both must be totally naked for the
offering to be acceptable."
Ross allowed Trevor to turn so they stood face to face. There was a broad
grin on Ross' face. "The likelihood of someone coming along is remote. We
can always grab our clothes and disappear in the bush."
Trevor thought for a moment, and slowly a grin spread over his face. "Why
not! Though I suggest we put out clothes somewhere out of sight so we
don't have to stop and pick them up."
"Okay then."
They went a few feet into the dense bush, and undressed. Totally naked,
without even socks and shoes, they emerged into the dappled sunlight. Ross
had secreted a small jar of lubricant in his hand. He pushed Trevor in
front of him until they stood before Tane Mahuta. Trevor puts his hands on
the crude fence to steady himself. Ross pressed up against Trevor with his
hard prick between his buttocks.
"That feels good. As long as we're not interrupted I think I might enjoy
this."
Ross kissed Trevor's neck. "If you enjoy it then Tane Mahuta will be well
and truly pleased."
Ross prepared them both. Trevor bent slightly forward to give Ross easier
access. Ross' had to bend his legs as he was the taller man. He placed
the tip of his prick on Trevor's puckered entry, and began to push. His
hands went round to grasp Trevor close and keep him steady. Slowly,
inexorably Ross's prick slid into Trevor.
"That's wonderful Ross, give me it all." whispered Trevor.
Ross adjusted the angle of his thrusting until he knew that his prick was
rubbing over Trevor's love nut. Trevor groaned in ecstasy. Slowly Ross
thrust in and out. Slowly Trevor's pleasure mounted. He felt his balls
begin to rise and tighten. His breathing became deeper, and still Ross
continued.
Trevor's cock stuck out into the air. No hand was near it.
Ross thrust harder and deeper, and his prick convulsed and shot load after
load of love juice deep into Trevor.
That triggered Trevor. He looked down and saw his cock harden even more,
and then out shot three great jets of white spunk that fell to the ground
in front of Tane Mahuta.
They stood in silence, Trevor looking at the great tree in front of him,
and Ross nuzzling into Trevor's neck and kissing him.
Ross' prick softened and slipped out of Trevor. Trevor's cock went limp.
He turned to face Ross, and put his arms round him and kissed him long
and deeply. Neither wanted to break the moment.
There was a stir in the air, and a cooler waft of air reminded them that
they were naked. Ross took Trevor's hand and led him to where they had
hidden their clothes. They dressed in silence, and fully dressed they came
out into the clearing and stood before Tane Mahuta, the God of the
Forest. Trevor's arm was round Ross waist, and Ross' arm was round Trevor's
shoulder.
"I feel that something significant happened," said Trevor with some
hesitation. "It was as though, in someway things with us have deepened,
somehow we've sealed our relationship."
"Does that worry you?" said Ross, looking down into Trevor's eyes.
"No. I'm pleased, I'm happy."
"And so am I, more than."
They put their arms round each other and kissed.
When they began to move out of the clearing, Trevor turned again to look at
the massive tree. "Thank you, Tane Mahuta, God of the Forest. The
sacrifice was willingly and lovingly given."
"Thank you, Tane Mahuta, for bringing Trevor to your land, and giving him
to me, and healing my broken heart with his love."
"I shall always remember today," said Trevor as they turned to go back to
the car.
They had not gone ten yards down the path before they met a couple of
middle aged respectable women. They all passed the time of the day. When
the women were out of sight Trevor and Ross looked at each other, roared
with laughter, and hand in hand ran whooping aloud in jubilation back to
the car.
Jeff at jeffyrks@hotmail.com